


With These Words, I Curse Thee

by PagoniTrismegistus



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-12 17:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PagoniTrismegistus/pseuds/PagoniTrismegistus
Summary: A quick story about Sieglinde Sullivan I wrote for a Black Butler lit club. It's a bit of a rush job but oh well XDI'm really fascinated by this arc of the manga, because I'm like, a pseudo-practicing witch. I really love the character of Sieglinde. I think she's just fabulous.





	1. ᚤᛟᚢ'ᚱᛖ ᚨᚾ ᚨᛋᛋᚺᛟᛚᛖ

Draw a deep line through the soil, and another one across. She followed the same pattern she’d put down in her sketchbook with a waxy red crayon as a child, all her focus turned towards the work at hand. “Grow hasily… grow healthy…” The young witch continued her spell, muttering her intentions under her breath, as she carved the symbol of power into the earth with her calcite staff. Many of the local farmers had reported their crops were not coming along as well as usual, and fear of food shortage plagued the villagers. “A curse,” they muttered amongst themselves. “Someone has cursed the land.” 

Sieglinde inhaled deeply. “It’s done.” She studied her sigil carefully, deeply imprinted in the dry soil. This ought to do the trick, or so she hoped. There were times when the liege of Wolfsschlucht doubted her own powers. Although she’d been praised for her sharp wit and gifts of healing, she wondered why she had never seen a glimpse of the world beyond, or why some spells failed while others were a success. Was it coincidence when she’d helped the tailor find her missing sheers through her incantations? Was it simply luck when she’d saved a little boy from drowning in the pond by commanding the elements to hear her plea? More disturbingly, while the residents of the village practiced folk magic on a regular basis, she’d never found another descendant of the emerald witch coven among them. She was the only one. The high priestess over an order of a single soul. Wolfram had explained to her that the remainder of the coven had fled the forest many ages ago when the dryads became angered with humankind, and only the Emerald Witch had stayed behind to ensure the safety of the forest. As detailed as his explanation had been, this story never sat right with Sieglinde. Why should those who dance in the forest and praise the beauty of nature become enemies with the spirits of the earth? 

Sometimes, she would awake in the middle of the night to refill her water chalice and hear strange, metallic noises off in the distance. Wolfram had explained this away too, telling her it was sounds from the city outside the forest, which could be heard when the conditions were just right. Sieglinde had promised herself she’d make it to the city sometime to verify these claims, but always became too busy with her responsibilities as the ruler of Wolfsschlucht to find time to sneak away. While her more lofty goals of an escape were indefinitely delayed, she would often “get away” from the village by venturing into the thick growth of the forest and walking to the magic pond, where she could be alone with her thoughts.


	2. ᚠᛟᚢᚱ ᛏᚹᛖᚾᛏᚤ ᛁᛋ ᛏᛟᛗᛟᚱᚱᛟᚹ

On one particularly dark day, Sieglinde made the short journey out to the pond, a light snack of Wolfram’s lemon bread jammed into her dress pocket. The air felt raw and the cold wind whipped across the young witch’s pale face. She squinched her eyes shut in discomfort and considered heading back home instead of going to the enchanted waters for some divination. However, something tugged her towards that place, and she continued onwards, fiddling with the stands of black hair which came loose from her updo as the cold wind swatted her cheeks.

Sieglinde sat down by the side of the pond, as she always would, bringing herself into a meditative state so that she might make sense of the visions dancing across the placid water. She took note of what she’d seen in her little leather-bound sketchbook and proceeded to greedily chomp down on the sweets she’d tucked away in her pocket, savoring the light, airy bread and lemony glaze. What she uncovered from her scrying left her concerned. An axe, a door heralding the appearance of a guest. Her intuition told her something was amiss, and she thought back to the disturbing noises echoing through the woods late at night. Shaking with anxiety, Sieglinde softly prayed for the spirits of the forest to guide her, unsure of how effective her petitions might be. The wind hit her from behind again, only this time it felt much more like the air had been disturbed by a physical presence rather than foul weather. She looked down at the dark waters, which suddenly flickered with speckles of light. Shocked, the girl put her hand to her mouth, silently staring at the surface of the pond. Something was coming. Sieglinde raised her gaze from her own sparkling reflection and watched intently as a wispy figure appearing like an illuminated mist slowly floated towards her from the dense undergrowth. The witch jolted backwards, fueled by a mixture of excitement and fear. “You came! You really came!”

“My lady, this forest is dying.”

“What?” A strange feeling of dread took hold of Sieglinde, that bizarre sensation that something within your chest has dropped downwards, sending a jolt of adrenaline up your spine. She looked around at the foliage surrounding the lake, trying to discern some hallmark of illness among the trees. All appeared to be in good health. “I don’t see it… I don’t see any signs of disease.” 

“I cannot allow this indignity to continue. Get rid of that pendant! They’re lying to you!”

Sieglinde instinctively clutched the pewter amulet around her neck. “B-but without this amulet, I’m opening myself up to the werewolf’s curse!”

“Werewolves aren’t what you need to fear in these woods!” The mysterious being suddenly appeared behind her and the silver chain of her necklace broke into a thousand little loops, scattering among the grass.

“Hey! Stop that!” 

The glowing figure began sorting through the contents of the open locket, which hung slanted from its broken hinge. “This is a formula designed to repel spirits.” 

“What!?” Sieglinde pawed through the pile of wilted herbs and various flotsam pouring from her necklace in a crazed frenzy. She recognized all the ingredients and could not deny the truth of their purpose. Rock salt, a sigil to drive away spirits, dried rosemary, some sort of gritty, pale yellow dust which carried an energy of death; an entire collection of objects intended to keep the immortal ones away. Her elders told her not to open the locket because it was "dangerous." “This is-! I don’t understand! Why would-!?” 

“They’ve deceived you, Sullivan.” The dryad responded coldly. 

“But… why? Why would they do such a thing?”

“Their economy cannot survive without you.”

“But I-” Sieglinde’s cheeks burned red and her skin felt raw from the heat. Tears poured from her eyes and she turned away from her reflection, ashamed to see herself in such an ugly position of weakness. Years of hazy doubts bubbled to the surface of her mind in an instant.

“Outsiders are coming. Let them in, if you want to save this forest.”

“What’s wrong with it?!”

“The villagers plan to cut it down and make room for their horrible experiments. Punishment will be swift.” The spirit’s eyes glowed with bloodlust. 

“You’re going to kill them?! Please, don’t! I’m sure they don’t understand what they’re doing! What experiments? Please, tell me!” Sieglinde bowed to the forest floor, her head pressed firmly against the cursed soil. 

“Come with me.” The dryad outstretched a tendril of light towards the witch, which she was shocked to find had a solid property when she grasped onto it. The spirit lead her to a clearing in the dense forest, where a group of burly, uniformed people were hard at work on some sort of strange machine. The pair knelt down behind tall, dense ferns and peered through their leaves. The sound of metal hitting metal rang through the trees as the mysterious team of construction workers installed components and brought their tools down against the peculiar alloy-coated box. Sieglinde put her hands to her ears in an attempt to cover up the harsh clanging, and the dryad placed a gentle hand to her shoulder empathetically.

“What the hell is that?!” She hissed under her breath, horrified by the reality that some secret plan had been enacted behind her back. Was this something to create miasma for the werewolves? That was her job! The villagers would only bring misfortune to themselves by attempting to appease the vicious creatures on their own, especially if their foolish actions damaged and polluted the sacred grove. As much as she tried to rationalize her subjects’ actions, she couldn’t keep away the thought that this was part of something far more insidious than a sincere effort to fulfill the village obligation. Anger welled up inside the priestess, and for the first time, she began an incantation intended not to protect her people, but one to expose them and leave them helpless. She spit out the poisoned words with vigor. “With these words, I curse thee…”


End file.
